


Autopilot Engaged

by Caligraphunky



Category: Motorcity
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caligraphunky/pseuds/Caligraphunky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission gone wrong leaves Chuck as the only one who can save Mike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Find them.”_

The voice of the KaneCo platoon commander that was following Mike and Chuck was muffled through the masks and the laser blasts and squealing tires outside made it impossible to hear how close. Peeking out from behind the crumbling building that was hiding both them and Mutt would just get them found faster, and Chuck was already banking on having 5 seconds at the most before a blue and white head popped out from behind the corner.

Mike had to wake up. Like _now._

“Mikey, c’mon, get up,” Chuck had two fistfuls of Mike’s lapel and was shaking him in panic. “We gotta get outta here, OK, you’re fine Mike, you’re fine we gotta go get up get up _get up!_ ”

Mike wasn’t waking up but he was groaning a little and that was all Chuck had right at this moment, the fact that he wasn’t dead. The instruments had all worked fine up until an errant laser had caused Mutt to fishtail and spin out of control and Chuck hadn’t been paying attention to how fast they were going when they hit the wall.

Chuck was bruised, but Mike was out cold and there was definitely blood. Normally, Chuck might have fainted at the sight but there were so many other reasons that Chuck could faint right now _-The driver side door crunched and popped open, Mike slumping bonelessly out of his seatbelt, the KaneCo guys closing in-_ that they seemed to be tripping over each other in their race to overwhelm his consciousness and none of them were quite reaching.

“OK,” Chuck ran a trembling hand through his long bangs, “Alright, you’re alive. I’m gonna get you back in the car and you’re gonna drive and we’re gonna get away.” He was gasping, hyperventilating, as he shoved his arms under Mike’s armpits and hoisted him back into the seat earning another, slightly more lucid groan from Mike, fumbling to buckle the belt.

_“There they are.”_

Chuck slammed Mutt’s door closed and tripped over his feet in his sprint to the passenger side. He threw the door open and nearly fell into the seat when large, rough hands grabbed his shoulder and yanked him the other way. Chuck grabbed the door frame for dear life as the KaneCo grunt holding him shouted for the others.

In the other seat, Mike rubbed at his unfocused eyes, blinking rapidly, when the sound of Chuck throwing the car into gear cut into his thoughts. He looked out his window to see Kane’s soldiers turn the corner and bolt towards his car. He whipped his head around to see his co-pilot lose his grip on the door, just as a display window popped up with the words _“Engage Autopilot?”_ beside an empty box.

Chuck kicked the display as hard as he could. A check mark appeared in the holographic box.

The grunts slammed Chuck’s door shut just as Mutt’s tired squealed with the effort of propelling the car from zero to 400 and hairpin around the corner of the building. Chuck watched it go from his vantage on the cold concrete, still restrained by the rough hand. He felt something jab his temple and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. The rest of the solders closed the gap, surrounding him, and Chuck felt himself dragged forcefully upward by his arm. The one that held him motioned to the others and then behind him.

_“Get this one up against the wall.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Mike ignored the pain that shot down his right side, ignored the flickering black spots in his vision, ignored the fact that his hand was too swollen to grip the wheel and the stinging shock that shot up to his shoulder when he jabbed the semi-solid holographic autopilot display, turning it off and regaining control of the car.

Nothing made sense. The whole world was jumbled into internal memories and external lights, out of focus and out of control. He’d…he’d seen them. He’d seen them grab Chuck in the split second before Mutt rounded the corner. There were lasers somewhere, no, right in front of him. He’d seen…was seeing the guns on the backs of each of Kane’s grunts…no, that was a memory too. He’d seen Chuck kick the car into gear…Right. He was turning Mutt around with barely enough space to keep from running into himself and Chuck…

Chuck wasn’t in the seat next to him.

“Mike!” Julie’s voice cut through the fading haze in Mike’s brain, jolting his attention straight into the solid knot of dread swelling in his stomach. “What happ-”

_“Chuck!”_ Mike had no idea how hoarse his voice sounded until Julie’s avatar winced. “Those Kane Co guys- I’m going back for him!” The lump in his throat _–there was a lump in his throat you don't know anything's happened yet don’t panic don’t panic–_ was getting hard to talk around, but Dutch cut him off.

“We got things here! Go!” He could hear Texas shouting something else, but he didn’t pay attention. Mike slammed his foot on the gas, shooting past the other Burners and down into the rotted out catacombs of the skyscrapers he’d just came from. His shuddering breaths were calming him only enough to remember the way back to where he’d last seen Chuck.

_Turn right here…straight down…another right…here!_

“Chuck?!”

Mike fumbled for the headlights, forgetting his useless hand until another spasm of agony racked it when he hit the switch. Frustration took over –or mixed with– the fear and pain that churned in his heart and he kicked the door open with a yell. It bounced and made the shadows of the reflecting headlights bounce with it.

The bouncing light brought Mike’s eye to an unusual contour lying against a crumbling wall covered in red paint.

“Paint. Right,” Mike whispered in a voice that betrayed his breathless trembling body as he stumbled out of the car and towards the figure on the ground. The haze was coming back, the whole world blurring as those he was still in Mutt and driving past it at 200 miles an hour.

“Chuck?”

Chuck was laying on his side, arms curled up under him and teeth clinched tightly into a grimace. There were bruises and bloody streaks all over what Mike could see of his face, and his blond hair was soaked red in the puddle of blood that pooled under him.

Gorge and bile rose in his throat. Mike swallowed them both back down with enormous effort. The blurry unfocused world became worse as he dropped to his knees in front of his still friend. Nothing seemed real, not the chilly concrete through his jeans or the bright light that illuminated the skeleton walls surrounding them or the rattling breathing he was suddenly very aware of.

“…Mikey?”

Mike’s eyes stung. “Hey, Chuckles,” he shifted back on his knees and slipped his swollen arm under Chuck’s head and picked him up, the pain a distant ghost of sensation now. “Take it easy, OK?”

Chuck reached out a bloody hand. Mike took it. “Sorry,” he whispered voice quavering. “I tried to fight them off but…”

“You did great, buddy.” Mike sucked in a breath through his teeth to force down a sob. “Thanks for keepin’ ‘em off my tail.”

Chuck’s lips quirked into a tiny smile. “…Anytime.”

Mike could see now that the blood was coming from a deep black wound in Chuck’s side, and tried to set Chuck so that he was elevated as he vaguely remembered he was supposed to.

“Tell Dutch I’m sorry about Mutt,” Chuck was looking beyond Mike now, staring up at the ceiling and he had no idea how much the boy in his arms was seeing. “I know he hates retouching the paint.”

“What, cause of the autopilot? That…that wasn’t your fault. Besides, you can-” the pained sob broke through his even voice like a hairline fracture in his composure, “you can tell him yourself when we get back to the garage.”

“…Right,” Chuck’s tone was resigned and exhausted, ”when we get back.”

“We’ll get both you and Mutt patched up, just…just don’t worry, OK?” Another errant sob escaped. “Everything’s gonna be fine, I promise.”

“Yeah…yeah, I know.”

Mike felt a weak pressure around his palm. Chuck was trying to squeeze his hand, but there was no strength in it. He mumbled something else, but Mike couldn’t hear him.

“Everything’s going to be fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

Mutt hadn’t needed much in the way of repairs but it was the only thing Mike found he’d been willing to work on for the past day and a half. Upgrading little things, doing minor touch-ups, tightening barely-loose bolts, loosening them back up to check things underneath and then tightening them again…It was even OK that he had to do everything one-handed, his left arm wrapped tightly in a sling to set the break. It slowed things down, let Mike focus on his motions, plan everything out, and, most importantly, kept his mind off recent events.

He barely remembered what happened after the rest of the Burners found him, hunched over Chuck’s bod- hunched over Chuck with Mutt’s engine still running. He had vague memories of Julie’s arm around his shoulder while she whispered something to Dutch and Texas, neither of whom said anything. He remembered Texas leaning down to take Chuck out of his arms, Dutch contacting Jacob about something, and then…And then he was here, working on the car. The rest was a blur, a confusing mash of colors and sounds that he couldn’t seem to piece together. The fog he’d been under when he woke up in Mutt hurdling down the road on autopilot had come back and settled over his mind.

The wrench was fighting him, hooked onto a stubborn bolt deep down in the engine that refused to turn. At least not one-handed, but that was really his fault. He’d still have his arm if he’d been faster to-

 _No, no, no…_ Mike tried to jolt his thoughts back into the present, back to this stupid bolt and the engine block. Thinking about anything else would mean thinking about the exact thing he didn’t want to think about. He was going to think about this bolt and this wrench until he was done with it and could go on to think about the next bolt.

He didn’t have to think about how badly he screwed up, or how completely useless he was to the other Burners right now, or how he’d made a promise Chuck that was broken not two minutes later which had to be some kind of record as far as failing a friend went, or how he couldn’t protect Motorcity now or how-

Too hard. The wrench slipped and so did Mike, slamming his busted arm on the engine block. The fiery pain wracking every nerve in his body jarred every other thought out of his mind, and he hadn’t realized he’d screamed until the pain had died away and he became aware of the echo reverberating around the garage.

“Woah, take it easy there, kid. You’ll either strip the bolts or break your head.”

It was Jacob’s voice, and Mike could smell that he’d cooked…something. The smell was unrecognizable, which was good because he wasn’t up for comfort food right now.

“Hey, Jacob.” Mike straightened up out of Mutt’s engine and turned around towards Jacob without really looking at him. “Did you see where that wrench went?”

“Yeah,” Jacob replied, “but I’m not telling you.” He set the pan he was holding on top of Mutt’s hood, deftly shutting it with a push.

“Jacob-”

“Aw no, Mike, I’m cutting this one off at the bud,” Jacob pushed the pan, filled with some sort of crusty glop, towards him, “You haven’t had a bite to eat since you got back.”

“If you’re not going to help me find that wrench then-” Jacob cut him off, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Look, kid, I know what you’re doing. I know how you’re feeling and I know what you’re trying to do, and I can tell you right now that it ain’t gonna work.”

“Jacob, I don’t-”

“Whadya think’s gonna happen, kid? You sit there up on your car forever until you don’t think about anything else? Do you stop caring, stop paying attention to everything else because you lost something you cared about?”

“’Something I cared about?!’” Mike wasn’t sure what he was hearing from Jacob. The words didn’t make sense, not coming from Jacob. “Chuck was…has never been just ‘something I cared about!’”

Jacob was silent, his expression soft. Mike backed out of Jacob’s grasp with an angry shrug, nearly-stumbling backwards. His heavy breathing was the only indication of the knot his heart seemed to have tied itself into.

“Chuck was my best friend! He was a Burner! He was…” Mike choked a little, “He was important to all of us! And now what’s happened? Kane-Kane killed him. He killed him, don’t you get that? Chuck is dead. He’s not going to be our programmer anymore, or ride with me in Mutt or…or…” The burst of fury that nearly consumed him a second ago was already completely dissipated.

“…or play with our RC cars or watch movies with us, or tease me about the damage I do to Mutt…He’s…We’re never going to see him again.”

It was like those words were a cue for the strength in his legs to abandon him, and he sat on Mutt’s hood like a lead weight. He was pretty sure that the heat he felt on his face was from tears, but it seemed like a herculean task to wipe them away now.

“I’m never going to see him again.”

“Makes things clearer, doesn’t it?” Jacob sat down beside him, pan in his lap, and hooked his arm around Mike’s shoulder. “Kane’s taken so much from everyone in Motorcity…I didn’t want this to be the loss that made you give up.”

He sighed. “Don’t think Chuck would have wanted that either.”

Mike thought about the other Burners then, about how Julie had been gone for most of the night, voice breaking when she apologized and told them she needed to talk to Claire and that she’d be back in the morning, and how when she did come back she came back with red-rimmed eyes and a still-hitching voice. About how Dutch had sat for hours, staring at the table and lost in thought, turning a fork in his hands mindlessly over and over, Roth leaning into his shoulder beside him, before he finally gave up and went to bed. And about how Texas, stoic and quiet right up until they got home, vanished into his bedroom and cranked his stereo all the way up in an unsuccessful attempt to disguise messy uncontrollable sobbing that carried through the garage anyway.

“You’ve still got a fight to finish, and he knew it, I think.” Jacob was clearly out of things to say now, and Mike cleared his throat, talking low and even now.

“Why…why don’t you reheat that or something?”

“Bean sprouts and mustard casserole. It’s supposed to be served cold. Why?”

“Gonna get the others,” Mike shrugged -and there was no fury to it this time- and stood up, wiping his eyes dry with some effort. “I don’t think any of us should be alone right now.”

Jacob smiled and took the pan over to the table. “I’ll dish up dinner,” and Mike smiled too, but not with his eyes.


	4. Autopilot Disabled

She could hide his keys.

If Julie hid Mike’s car keys, he couldn’t drive like that anymore. He couldn’t speed off ahead of the Burners every time they got a distress call to barrel straight into danger, or she could lock it and he wouldn’t be able to shut himself away from the rest of them, hiding in his car until he could pretend he was fine again, or she take them but give them back to him after they’d finished talking so he couldn’t run off to who-knows-where again or…or…

Chuck’s death had hit them all hard, but Mike had been there when it happened…no, it was more accurate that he _hadn’t_ been there, and that was all the excuse Mike needed to blame himself.

Not that they hadn’t all felt that way, at first or in time. The thought floated through the entire garage for about three days, gradually planting itself into the brains of all the Burners and growing into an unsaid consensus: If they had really been acting as a team, they could have saved him.

The number of bots hadn’t been overwhelming, but they all knew how destructive they could be. When they started, the only thing that seemed important was stopping the Kanebots from destroying whatever they’d been sent to destroy. When Mike and Chuck blipped out of radar, it seemed less important to defeat them immediately.

And when they learned Chuck was in trouble and rushed in to help, only to find Mike cradling his bloody body with a swollen hand, the whole of Motorcity took a back seat.

It was still there now. The energy that they’d all felt for as long as they'd been fighting, stemming from the knowledge that what they were doing was right and the belief they could make things OK, had been crushed under the weight of losing one of their own.

Chuck had been one of them. He’d been right too.

And now Julie was left sitting on the hood of 9-Lives, rubbing her fingers over a set of skull-shaped keys she’d swiped from his jacket, and hoping she could hold it together long enough to patch Mike up for another few months.

Death was taboo in Deluxe, a dirty little secret that the younger folks never knew and the older ones barely acknowledged. It wasn’t like Motorcity, where most of the elderly looked at life like a party that could be broken up at any moment and the kids forged any dream they could as armor against the dangers of the underground.

In Deluxe, those who were sick or old or just unfit to work were taken. Nobody ever asked where they were taken or why. They got the notice, a day to say goodbye, and then they were gone. It was…normal. People in Deluxe just agreed that it was how life worked.

She tapped her heal against the metal and listened to a distant thumping sound. Mike must had discovered his keys were missing.

Julie had asked her dad about death once, shortly after she started sneaking out to Motorcity, and all he had done was ask where she heard about that and left to find out who was talking. If he’d stuck around to have a talk it would’ve gone poorly, but she hadn’t realized that at the time. All she had done was collapse on her bed and think about why she never heard from her mother.

The thumping had stopped, replaced by nearing footsteps. “Julie?”

“Hey Mike,” she turned her head towards the door, and weakly held up his keys, “guess you’re looking for these, huh?”

Mike’s smile was like someone had photocopied his expression and taped it to his face. “Yeah…Thanks, Jules,” and he reached for them, only to have her flip them into her palm and pull away.

“Have a seat?” she sidled over on the hood to make room, but Mike didn’t move to sit.

Julie hadn’t known Mike before she came down to Motorcity, even though he was one of her father’s best soldiers. She’d been kept sheltered from Deluxe’s military for most of her life, not even understanding what they were until she was 13. Most of them were just grunts, happy to be on their feet, trying to do any work they could that didn’t involved data entry or material processing.

Mike was different. He cared. He cared when he was a KaneCo officer and he cares almost twice as hard now that he’s a Burner, about everything worth caring about. It’s the dumbest way to describe him, and the biggest cliché that Julie can think of, but Mike is a beacon of hope down here in the gloom of Motorcity.

And Mike is trying his best to keep that light lit. She can see it in the way he looks at her, like he knows what conversation is coming and is afraid it will put it out. He put his hands in his pockets and found a place somewhere on the floor to stare at.

“Julie-”

_“Mike.”_

That stops him, but he doesn’t leave.

“You know, don’t you?” Julie didn’t mean to be harsh, she really didn’t. He was hurting. She knew it. But then, so was everyone.

“You can’t run from this, Mike. You can’t…you can’t bring him back by trying to be strong for everyone else!”

Mike closed his eyes and crossed his arms, gritting his teeth at the floor like he was trying to scare it away.

“Mike? Listen…” She scooted down 9-Lives and stood up, gingerly stepping over to him. “I know you were talking to Jacob…He told me. He didn’t tell me what you said or anything but…” and now they were standing face to face, “…he said that you were at least talking about it. And when you called us all together to talk…”

She worried her lip, staring at his closed eyes as though she could will them to open and show her what was in his head. “Now you’ve just…closed off and you’re doing all these reckless things. Reckless even for you.”

She bit off the chuckle (ouch) she managed to force out when Mike didn’t react. “What changed?”

The shuddering gasp Mike let out startled her, considering that he hadn’t moved the entire time. His eyes shut tighter, which Julie hadn’t thought possible, but they failed to keep the tears in.

“Mike?”

“I just…” he started, but faltered. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?” but she felt she might already know.

“Chuck…they…” Mike looked like he was trying to force out something painful, “I found him against the wall, Jules. They just…backed him up and shot him and…I just…I can’t…”

Mike was really crying, slightly hunched over and grabbing his shoulders. “I can’t stop thinking about how scared he must have been and…and how it’s all my fault. If I’d just…”

Julie didn’t say anything, but she opened her arms and took a few steps forward. When Mike didn’t react to her closeness, she reached up slightly to put her hands on his back.

It was almost like being caught in a bear-trap, the speed and strength with which Mike returned the hug, but he was hugging her, leaning down and starting to sob.

“I should’ve listened to him. I shouldn’t have been so reckless. I didn’t think about what might happen to him if I got hurt and now he’s…”

“He saved you, Mike.” Julie squeezed him tight, bearing his weight on her smaller frame. “He was only trying to save your life. He loved you.”

“And look where it got him.” The edge in Mike’s voice was sharp enough to cut, and Julie realized suddenly that his pain was too big for just her to sooth.

“Mike…” She eased him down to the ground, which was where they had been heading anyway. His legs seemed to have given. “Do you really think Chuck would blame you for what happened? If he were here right now, would he really be upset with you?”

“If I’d have done my job right, he would be here right now.”

Julie couldn’t respond to that but to hold him tighter.

“You know…” Mike was barely whispering “when we first went up to confront Kane and we were trapped by his prison pods, Chuck told me that he knew I’d get us out of it. And I did. I thought I could get us out of anything, but the one time he really needed me, I blew it. My best friend is gone, and what happens the next time one of us gets into trouble? I can’t let it happen again…I just…I can’t.”

At least he was talking, or at least that’s what Julie wanted to believe: That he might be at least starting to work through this.

“Mike, we’re a team. Any one of us could have found you and Chuck before they got to him,” Julie didn’t realize she was crying until she tasted a tear on her tongue, “We’re a team, and he was one of us. We could be all be to blame, but the point is there isn’t anyone to blame except Kane’s killer grunts.”

“Except Kane,” Mike cut in.

“And I know Chuck would never blame you or any of us for what happened. He…He saved your life, Mike. He saved your life so you could keep fighting.”

He didn’t seem to be crying anymore, nor was he gripping her like she might be ripped away from him at any moment. She pulled a hand away to wipe at a tear. “So, we stay alive so we can keep fighting?”

His smile was tiny and fleeting, the ghost of someone who used to be around a lot more, but, for the first time in days, it was genuine. “We will.”

“We’re not losing anyone ever again.”

Julie tried to find something to smile at in that, but there was simply nothing to be found.


End file.
